


Spontaneous Combustion

by Pigzxo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Dean, Canon Compliant, Drinking, Enthusiastic Consent, Fluff and Smut, Grinding, M/M, Top Castiel, maybe? i'm like 12 eps behind so idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-30 21:56:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10885722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pigzxo/pseuds/Pigzxo
Summary: Dean takes a break during a case to go to a gay bar. Everything's going terribly until he accidentally summons Cas and things go downhill from there...





	Spontaneous Combustion

Dean sat at the bar and swirled his drink. His shoulders were set in a tense line and he couldn’t even bring himself to check out the _bartender_ – a guy who had obviously been hired just so people could do exactly that.

            Sam had stayed back at the motel – saying he had more research to do for the case – and since they were finally in a city big enough to _have_ a gay bar, Dean had decided to have a little fun. The type of fun he didn’t get to have that often, being that he was in the closet and always dragging around his little brother. But now that he was there, it was like he had forgotten how to be attracted to guys. Well, _attracted to_ wasn’t the problem. It was flirting that was the problem. Talking, even. Taking his eyes off the swirling amber liquid in his glass and noticing a guy at all.

            He thought, a little desperately and a little tragically, about how easy it was to flirt with Cas. Of course, that had the added bonus of not being in a packed, loud, dark nightclub and the fact that Cas didn’t think he was flirting at all helped too. Cas thought it was all friendly, all _normal_. Like grabbing a guy’s face and staring into his eyes was in any way straight.

            Dean sighed and downed the rest of his drink. He wished Cas was there.

            “Where are we, Dean?” Cas said. “Is this for the case?”

            Dean whirled around on the stool, blinked hard when he saw Cas standing next to the bar. He looked confused and out of place in his trench coat and suit – especially when everyone behind him on the dance floor was so scantily clad. Cas had his eyes over his shoulder, scanning the room for supernatural threats.

            “What the fuck, dude?” Dean said. He swallowed and tried to steady his voice. “Why are you here?”

            “You called.”

            “I did not.”

            Cas frowned as he met Dean’s eyes. “I can hear your thoughts, Dean. I know when you want me.”

            _Want?_ Dean shook the thought away, fixed Cas with an even glare. “You can hear, like, all my thoughts about you? Not just prayers?”

            “Only prayers,” Cas confirmed. “It’s just the definition of prayer is mutable. You don’t necessarily have to get down on your knees beside a bed to pray.” –Dean looked away, coughed– “Any call for me is considered a prayer. Wishing for me is a prayer.”

            “Wishing,” Dean repeated, deadpan. He wondered how many times he had _wished_ Cas beside him when he was doing something less than completely appropriate. Apparently he’d never done it because, if he had, Cas would have popped up and caught him in a compromising position. Dean cleared his throat. “Yeah. Well. Whatever, man. I just wished I had some company. You don’t have to stay.”

            Cas made no sign that he had any intention to leave. “This does not seem to be one of your normal bars, Dean.”

            Dean almost laughed. “Thought I’d try something different.” He signalled the bartender for two more scotches, still not meeting his eyes.

            Cas sat down on the stool next to Dean and surveyed the dance floor. “There are no women here, Dean. Doesn’t that negate your purpose for coming to a bar?”

            Dean kept his eyes on his empty glass and shrugged. “Bars are also good for alcohol.”

            “Is the alcohol here good?”

            “Terrible.”

            The bartender slid the two drinks in front of them and then leaned uncomfortably close to Dean. He whispered, “Nice catch,” and Dean looked up in time to catch his wink as he backed away. Dean felt his cheeks heat up, knew his entire face was red.

            Cas frowned at him. “Is something wrong?”

            Dean swallowed his whole drink in one go. Then he took Cas’ – knowing alcohol and angels didn’t mix well – and downed it too. He came up coughing and moved off the stool. “Let’s go,” he said. “Find somewhere else. Somewhere quieter.”

            As Dean moved towards the exit, Cas caught his hand. His fingers tickled over Dean’s palm before catching and holding him back. “Didn’t you want to dance?” Cas asked. When Dean looked back, blinking, Cas added, “Before, when you called for me, you were thinking about dancing.”

            Had he been thinking about dancing? Dean glanced towards the floor. He might have been thinking about the _dancers_ , the young guys grinding against each other on the floor, the ones putting on a show for anyone who wanted to watch. Maybe his thoughts about Cas had gotten mixed in, mixed up.

            Cas tugged Dean towards the dance floor. “Let’s dance. It’s what you came for.”

            Dean knew he hadn’t said that, hadn’t so much as thought that. He dragged his feet a little. “Dance together?”

            “It’s what all the other men are doing, Dean.”

            Dean searched Cas’ open, earnest expression for a sign that the angel wasn’t nearly as clueless as he let on. He found none. But, who knew? The guy had gone AWOL on him multiple times, convincingly lied to him for months, and once swallowed a shitload of Leviathans and become Chuck. So maybe Dean wasn’t as good at reading his friend as he would have liked. Maybe he was just getting his hopes up, wishing for something that wasn’t there, wanting Cas in an entirely different way than he hoped Cas had meant.

            Cas managed to get them onto the dance floor – not far, near the wall and right under a speaker – and he started to shuffle his feet. Dean suppressed a smile at the angels’ subpar dance skills, tried to swallow it before Cas looked back. For his part, Dean simply moved his feet to the rhythm, tried not to do anything stupid with his hands or sway his hips too much. The last thing he wanted was someone getting any ideas about him now that Cas was there.

            After a few minutes of watching the dance floor, Cas said, “I think I get it.”

            “Get what?” Dean said.

            “The dance they’re doing,” he said. “We should try it.”

            Before Dean could ask what the hell Cas meant by that, Cas put a hand on his waist and pulled him close. Dean grunted as their hips hit together hard and then nearly bit through his lip when Cas’ hot breath hit his cheek. Then, to his complete and utter surprise – although he really should have figured it out by then – Cas placed one of his legs between Dean’s and started to circle his hips in rhythm to the music.

            Dean let out a sound that wasn’t entirely platonic – if pushed, he’d call it a whine – and ground his teeth together. After a moment, he managed, “Cas. This isn’t exactly... It’s not like we _have_ to dance like this to be here.”

            “I disagree, Dean. It seems to be the accepted form of dance for this location.”

            Dean nodded, trying not to focus on the fact that Cas’ fingers were spreading out, straying lower than his hip. He looked down, seeing nothing but Cas’ shoulder and tried not to make the situation _worse_ by doing something stupid like grinding against Cas’ thigh or moving his hips in a way that created even more friction. Chewing his bottom lip, he waited for the song to end and then started to move away.

            “I think that’s enough dancing,” he said. “We should go.”

            Cas gave him a look. “You need to learn to have fun, Dean.”

            “Fun?” Dean echoed. “You think _I’m_ the one who needs to learn to have fun?”

            Cas shrugged, his expression neutral.

            Dean licked his lips, silently hating himself for being unable to back down from a challenge. “All right, tough guy,” he said. He stepped forward and pulled at Cas’ tie, struggling to get it undone. “You wanna have fun? First step is not looking like you just stepped out of the office.”

            Cas frowned at him. “I don’t understand what undressing me has to do with you having fun.”

            Dean’s fingers fumbled as he pulled Cas’ tie away. He kept his eyes steadfast on the buttons of Cas’ shirt, refusing to acknowledge what he had just said. As the buttons came undone under his fingers, he remembered the last time he’d gotten Cas to loosen up a little. He’d readied Cas for a date with someone else like a fucking idiot too scared to admit what he really wanted. When he got the top three buttons undone, he pushed the trench coat and the suit jacket off of Cas’ shoulders. He piled all the excess clothing onto Cas’ arm.

            “Do whatever you have to do to poof that away.” He waved his hand in a circle.

            Cas, still frowning, made the clothing disappear.

            Dean smiled. “Better.”

            “What’s better?”

            “Now we can have some _fun_.” Dean stepped forward and took Cas by the hips. He shifted them back into position, swung his hips to the beat of the song, hoping to make the angel uncomfortable. It was the stupidest game of gay chicken he’d ever played. He splayed a hand across Cas’ chest, letting himself indulge in the fantasy just for a moment, the belief that Cas had known what he was doing when he pulled him out of the floor, and then he leaned in to breathe in Cas’ ear. “You having fun?”

            “You seem to be having fun.”

            Dean couldn’t remember if Cas’ voice had been that rough and gravelly before or if it came from the situation they found themselves in. Either way, he wanted to find a way to keep him talking.

            “I know how to have fun. You don’t.”

            Cas hummed like he was considering this. Then, instead of responding, he pressed a chaste kiss to the side of Dean’s neck. Nothing hot or sexy, not even a bite or a long suck. Just a little peck. Dean felt his neck go hot.

            “What was that for?” he asked.

            “Some of the pairs seem to be doing it.” Cas said, his voice sounding a little far as he looked around the dance floor. “I thought it might be fun. For you. Or me. I’m not sure how I felt about it.”

            “Oh.”

            “Although they do seem to be doing it more enthusiastically...”

            Dean opened his mouth to respond but promptly lost his words when Cas nuzzled against his neck. He licked a long stripe up the side of Dean’s throat and Dean felt his knees go a little weak. The only thing that kept him upright was the panicked thought of what it would mean if he pressed too hard against Cas’ thigh. Not that he was hard yet, not really. The little friction between them had gotten his blood rushing but not downward yet. Not when he was trying so hard _not_ to notice how warm and toned Cas’ thigh was, how easy it would be to pull himself closer and get a little relief by rubbing up against it.

            Cas’ lips latched around his pulse point and Dean groaned, the sound rumbling through his whole body. He tried to be embarrassed about it, to be worried that it was _Cas_ sucking on his neck, but when Cas’ hand slipped onto his ass and pulled him closer, he really couldn’t be bothered to care.

            Dean bent his head and kissed Cas’ cheek, grazed his face against Cas’ rough stubble. He even pressed their bodies closer, let himself press up against Cas’ warm thigh. The shaky breath that went through his body must have been obvious enough, even to an angel, but Cas didn’t say a thing. He just continued to lay nipping little kisses across Dean’s neck.

            Dean let one of his hands run down the side of Cas’ torso, feeling the muscles underneath. He dug the fingers of his other hand into Cas’ hair and pushed him harder against his neck. He lost his breath when, with a particularly skilled sway of his hips, Cas pushed right up against him. And then all Dean’s blood rushed downwards, no matter how hard he tried not to focus on this or that, and his brain stopped functioning like it should have – ie. telling him not to grind against Cas while his dick was getting hard.

            Then Cas stepped back and Dean felt his whole body go cold. Coherent thought came back like a train car smacking into his brain and he scrambled for the right words, the right apology. He had no time to do so before Cas took a step behind him and lay his hands on Dean’s hips again. He wrapped himself up against Dean’s back and began moving his hips in the same motions, sidling up against Dean’s ass as he pressed a long, wet kiss to Dean’s shoulder.

            “Fuck,” Dean muttered, letting one of his hands fall to grasp Cas on his hips and bringing the other up behind him to hold Cas’ head in place. His eyes fluttered closed and he swore he could feel Cas’ own hardness up against his ass, grinding into him, throwing him for a whole new loop. Then Cas’ hand, the one Dean didn’t have a hold on, crept down to his crotch.

            Dean whimpered and bucked up into Cas’ hand. Cas ground the heel of his hand down and Dean let out a string of breathless curses, his legs wobbling beneath him. But Cas held him up with strong, rough hands as he began to palm him through his jeans.

            Dean turned his head, intent on telling Cas something – to stop or keep going, he wasn’t sure – but Cas caught his lips in a kiss. It was messy and awkward, a bad angle for both of them, but Dean dipped into it like it was the best kiss of his life. The angel’s lips tasted like honey and sweat and the stubble on his chin rubbed against Dean’s face, making his skin feel raw and red.

            So quick Dean couldn’t even tell how it had happened, Cas turned Dean and slammed him into the wall. Their lips crashed together again, angry and heated, and Cas pressed his thigh up between Dean’s legs in a way that left no worry whatsoever about whether or not he knew what he was doing. Dean pressed his hands to Cas’ cheeks, trying to keep him in place, trying to make sure he never stopped kissing him. Cas’ lips were like air, like every kiss Dean had ever had rolled into one, like a life support system and Dean was under a DNR.

            He felt Cas’ hand skidding between them, the weight of his palm on his chest, and he was getting embarrassingly aware of the fact that they needed to find a room – fast. Between his own erection trapped against Cas’ thigh and Cas’ own hardness pressed against his hip bone, Dean felt like he could explode at any second. Not just in the orgasm sense – in the he would become the first confirmed case of spontaneous human combustion sense.

            “Cas,” he managed between kisses, his words getting lost in his breathlessness and the consistent press of Cas’ lips. He still didn’t let go of the angel’s face, didn’t want to. “Cas, we need to find somewhere to... go.”

            Cas stopped kissing him but pressed their foreheads together, let their noses slip against each other. “Your motel,” he said.

            “Sam’s there.”

            Cas made a noise low in his throat – a mix between a whine and a groan – and Dean had the mind-blowing realization that he was the one doing this to him. He was the one who had torn the angel apart, turned him into this sweaty, human mess, and suddenly all Dean wanted to do was stare at him, watch him brush his hair back and whimper and grind against the air and – Dean was getting way ahead of himself.

            “Bunker.”

            “It’s hours away,” Dean said. “And I don’t wanna, uh, tire you out too soon.”

            The edge of a smile crept across Cas’ lips but it was clear he was losing his composure. His hips never stopped moving, now a light grind, just enough to keep the edge off but Dean felt like he was melting.

            “Bathroom,” Cas said.

            Dean wanted to wrinkle his nose – sleazy bar bathroom hook-ups were something he thought he’d left in the past – but he was beyond caring at this point. He opened his mouth to agree when Cas interrupted.

            “Or the Impala.”

            Dean’s heart thudded to a stop. On one hand, there was no way he should have messy, sweaty sex in the back of the Impala. It was his baby. And getting come out of the leather hadn’t been fun the first time around. But, on the other hand, he was embarrassed by how the idea sent a thrill through his entire body, made desire spark impossibly hotter in his mind. How many times had he glanced at Cas in the rear-view mirror and wished he was back there with him? How many times had he jacked off thinking about Cas pressing him into the leather seats? He wanted, he wished—

            “Now.” Cas grabbed Dean by his shirt sleeve and pulled him through the crowd. They pushed unapologetically past guys who shouted insults at their backs. Dean didn’t care, could barely hear them.

            The cold night air was a relief after the heat of the club – a sudden blast of clarity. Dean glanced towards Cas, still sweaty and red, and dragged his feet a little. He pressed his hand to Cas’ shoulder and stopped him. Cas looked back with an impatient expression.

            “Cas,” Dean said. His tongue fumbled the words. “I... uhh... thanks for coming and all, but, umm, if you don’t want to do this... if you, we... what I’m saying is you don’t have to grant my every wish. You’re not a fucking genie.”

            Cas closed the space between them with a breathless kiss, the kind of kiss that could be felt from head to toe. Dean’s whole body went numb. Cas pulled back and met Dean’s eyes, his blue sea filling Dean’s vision. “I want this,” Cas said, voice once again low and grumbly. “I want _you_. And if you feel the same, then I think you need to stop trying to get me to pull away.”

            Dean nodded, dumbstruck.

            Cas kissed him again. “Say it.”

            “Say...” Dean trailed off, his confusion dissipating as Cas raised an eyebrow. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, I want this. I want you.”

            Cas started to drag Dean forward again but this time he didn’t turn around. He faced him and kissed him and stumbled backwards until he hit the trunk of the Impala. Dean crowded up around him, got a hand on his thigh and hiked him up onto the car. He heard the clunk of the undercarriage and failed to care when Cas’ hands went to his belt, deftly undoing the buckle. Dean chuckled through their messy, impaired kisses as he tried to get Cas’ shirt off.

            “Cas. Cas, man,” Dean laughed and pulled back a little, causing a whine to leave Cas’ throat. Dean looked up into the angel’s eyes and smiled. “We’re gonna get arrested.”

            “Then get in the car,” Cas demanded.

            Dean stepped back with a laugh and fished the car keys out of his pocket. He unlocked the back door and shifted inside, not even making it all the way in before Cas crawled on top of him, pushing Dean’s back onto the seat and lying his entire weight on top of him. He managed to get the door closed behind him before he went back to Dean’s pants and fumbled with the button, the zipper, before dipping his hand into Dean’s boxers.

            Dean let out a moan and bucked into Cas’ hand. Smooth skin scraped over his cock, sending waves of pleasure through him as Cas tried to capture his lips and kept missing. Dean caught Cas’ chin and pulled him in, brushed their tongues together and wrapped his arm around the back of Cas’ neck to keep him close.

            His other hand wandered down Cas’ chest, feeling his abs and his ribs and rubbing over one of his nipples. Their lips slipped when Cas gasped and Dean pressed kisses against Cas’ neck, hard and sloppy and trying to make marks that would show for days. Cas responded by speeding up his hand, tightening his grip and generally making Dean lose his shit.

            “Too fast,” Dean mumbled, his words coming out between heavy breaths. He got a hand on Cas’ crotch and pressed against his hard dick, eliciting a shaky moan and succeeding in distracting Cas from his hand job. “Slower. Gotta... gotta save it for the main event.”

            Cas chuckled against his skin and his teeth brushed Dean’s ear as he rolled his balls in his hand. “And how’s that gonna go?” Cas asked. “How do you like it?”

            “There’s lube in the glove compartment.”

            “That’s not an answer.”

            Dean closed his eyes tight. He nearly bit through his bottom lip as Cas pulled down his pants and Cas’ cotton clad cock slid against his exposed one. “Fuck,” Dean managed. “Fuck me.”

            “You don’t sound sure.”

            “I’m sure. Damn sure.” Dean reached for Cas’ pants and started to undo the zipper. He pushed down his pants and boxers all at once and gasped in relief when Cas’ dick slid against his own. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he repeated, “Fuck me. Please, fuck me, Cas.”

            Cas backed off momentarily and scrambled over the console to reach into the glove compartment. He returned with a tube of lube, popped the cap, and generously coated his fingers. Without bending back down towards Dean, he sat on Dean’s thighs and warmed the lube on his hand. Dean whimpered and bucked up, trying to get friction.

            Cas smiled down at him. “Patience,” he whispered, the word a little like a promise.

            Dean waited, too long, he thought, longer than most people would.

            Then Cas pulled his pants off his feet and reached his clean hand under Dean’s thigh to prop it up. He lowered himself down, his cock rubbing against the inside of Dean’s thigh, and dipped his lube-covered fingers across the bottom of Dean’s dick. Dean whimpered, tasted blood on his lip. Cas’ pointer finger rubbed against Dean’s hole, gently pressed against the edge.

            “How long?” Cas whispered, pressing a kiss to Dean’s abs, then his hip, then the inside of his thigh.

            “A while,” Dean managed. “Not... too long since I did it myself.”

            Cas’ blue eyes flashed at the idea and Dean wondered what Cas’ mental image of him was. Did he know the truth from reading Dean’s thoughts? That Dean sat in the bunker and opened himself up, slowly, torturously, and tried to focus on the porn in front of him instead of thoughts of Cas? Did he know that Dean’s dildo was bright purple and purchased on a whim hours after he’d first met Cas?

            Cas slipped his finger inside Dean and Dean lost the ability to form coherent thoughts. “Shh,” Cas murmured. He pressed more kisses over Dean’s skin, wherever he could reach, focusing low on his body. “Relax.”

            Dean hummed and spread his legs a little further apart, his left knee hitting the back of the front seat. Cas started to suck a hickey into his hip bone as he added a second finger, curving inside him until he hit his prostate. Dean let out a small yelp and groaned as Cas spread his fingers to open him up. Cas chuckled and nuzzled against Dean’s thigh.

            “Cas,” Dean choked out. He opened his eyes to meet Cas’ teasing, open gaze. Reaching down a hand, he caught hold of Cas’ jaw and said, “Come up here and kiss me.”

            Cas smiled wide and shifted to take Dean’s lips against his own. The movement caused his fingers to dive deeper into Dean, making him groan as Cas’ tongue entered his mouth. Cas took the opportunity to add a third finger and stretch Dean even further.

            Dean did his best to kiss Cas back but his lips moved lazy and slow. His whole body trembled with pleasure, each twist of Cas’ fingers rubbing against his prostate and sending new waves of desire through him. Cas’ lips slipped to his jaw and he rubbed his stubble against Dean’s cheek, making Dean groan and pull him hair to keep him closer.

            “I’m ready,” Dean whispered.

            “You sure?”

            “Yes,” Dean hissed, his impatience getting the better of him. Then, feeling a stab of guilt, he tried to meet Cas’ downturned eyes and asked, “You?”

            “More than,” Cas murmured. He took his own dick in his hand and settled between Dean’s thighs. Dean tried to spread his legs further even though there was no room and Cas’ fingers burned into his thigh as he pushed his legs apart. With a deep breath, Cas lined his cock up with Dean’s hole and let the head press against his entrance.

            Dean swore, remembering too late how much this affected him, how much Cas affected him, and how easily the two things together were going to make him come.

            “Maybe... take it slow,” Dean said, his voice little more than a breath.

            Cas nodded as he stroked a hand down Dean’s abs. He snaked his hand around the outside of his hip and grabbed his ass. Then, slowly, he started to push inside Dean with a look of intense concentration on his face.

            Dean’s eyes rolled back in his head as he felt himself stretch open for Cas. He felt Cas’ skin burning against his, his hands rough and hot and his nails digging into his skin. Dean forced himself to breathe, to relax, allowing Cas to move all the way inside of him until he was completely full. Then he heard the lightest, softest of curses leave the angel’s lips.

            Dean opened one eye to look up at Cas who looked, to his credit, like he was holding on slightly better than Dean was. Cas loosened his grip and began to stroke Dean’s thigh, then his ass, then his hands tickled up the sides of Dean’s ribs as he lowered his sweating body against Dean’s. He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips.

            “You okay?” Cas asked.

            Dean nodded, pressed a kiss to the side of Cas’ jaw. “Ready when you are.”

            Slowly, Cas pulled out and Dean moaned as he felt the drag of his cock inside him. Cas let out a small, whimpering sound of his own, and buried his face in Dean’s shoulder. When he pushed back in, it was with slightly more force than before. It was also enough to slam Dean’s head against the car door and he hissed in pain.

            “Sorry,” Cas mumbled, his voice barely there, every syllable shaking. His teeth grazed the skin of Dean’s shoulder.

            “S’alright,” Dean slurred. He reached a hand behind him to take hold of the door, hoping that would prevent him from getting a concussion. “Keep going.”

            Cas complied and moved a little faster this time. They moved back and forth like that for a long time, each thrust a little faster, a little more forceful, each one dragging a new kind of groan from Dean. When Cas found his pace, he started a steady rhythm, rolling his hips into Dean and making Dean mumble curses along with his name. And maybe, just maybe, Dean added a little prayer whenever he was able to form a coherent thought.

            Cas got rougher, slammed his hips against Dean’s with a sweet smacking sound. He bit into Dean’s shoulder hard enough that pain sparked down Dean’s arm. But he didn’t mind. Didn’t mind that Cas fucked like he had nothing to lose, fucked like Dean couldn’t break if Cas tried. And damn it if Cas wasn’t trying. His speed kept increasing, his hands tightening on Dean’s body, and, when he realized he’d broken skin with his teeth, he started to press fast, bruising kisses to Dean’s shoulder.

            Then he hit Dean’s prostate and everything went starry. Dean’s eyes flickered and sweat dripped across his forehead. He felt his cock bouncing between them, being dragged against Cas’ abs every time he thrust. His head still hit the door every once in a while but the lingering pain added to the fascination, the dizzy, stupid feeling he got when Cas hit that spot and made his whole body erupt with pleasure.

            Dean felt a familiar tightening in his balls and fumbled to get his hand off Cas’ smooth, muscular back and onto his own cock. He tightened his fist around the base, desperate to keep this going, to never, ever let it end. He could stay in the back seat of car until the sun came up, until the week came to an end, until the next apocalypse hit – which could very well have been in the next couple of minutes.

            Cas kissed up the length of his neck, found his lips again. He brought his own hand between them and curled his fingers around Dean’s own. He started to drag both their hands along Dean’s length as he whispered, “We can do it again. And again. And again.” He slipped his tongue in between Dean’s lips and let his kiss linger before pulling back. “You don’t need to drag it out.”

            Dean wanted to argue that he did, wanted to argue that he didn’t know when he’d be brave enough to ask Cas for this again, to call for Cas when he wanted his brains fucked out. But he couldn’t stop the drag of his own fingers along with Cas’. It felt too good to feel both their hands – his own callused rough and Cas’ angel smooth – along his cock as Cas fucked into him, filled him up and hit his prostate on every thrust.

            And then, before he even knew it was happening, he came. Cas stroked him through it, didn’t even slow down the movement of his hips. Dean’s come splattered over their hands and across both their chests as Cas muffled Dean’s groans with his tongue. Then he lifted his fingers to his mouth, pulled out of the kiss and licked Dean’s come off his fingers as he started to thrust with wild, imprecise abandon. Dean’s whole body jostled, stung, but the post-orgasm glow kept him high and content as the stings of overstimulation burst through him.

            Cas came messy and hot inside him, filling him with warm liquid. Dean breathed out a curse as Cas thrust through his own orgasm and then slowly pulled out, dripping across the leather seats. Dean had a brief, disappointed thought about cleaning the car. Then Cas’ come started to drip out of him, down his ass and thighs and he lost himself to that desperate pleasure.

            With careful control, Cas collapsed on top of him, letting his weight fall against Dean’s body. He pressed lazy kisses across Dean’s shoulder and up his neck, teased his teeth against Dean’s earlobe. Dean chuckled a bit, his eyes still closed, his attention still on the sticky feeling of his legs before it started to dry and feel uncomfortable.

            “I should clean you up,” Cas whispered.

            “You don’t have to.”

            “I do.” Cas started to kiss down his chest and then dipped between his legs to lick off his own come in long, flat strokes of his tongue. Dean started to whimper feeling the skid of saliva on his dry skin but he reached down a hand to pet through Cas’ hair to let him know it was all right, it was more than all right.

            As Cas finished up, his tongue circling the edge of Dean’s hole and Dean feeling a tired, sad twitch of his cock as it tried to respond to the sensation, there was a knock on the car window.

            Both men startled. Dean twisted his neck to see the flashlight beam coming through the window. “Fuck,” he said, much too loud.

            Cas hit his head on the roof in his rush to cover them both up. Dean pulled on his underwear, shrugged on his shirt, and spared Cas a quick glance to make sure he was dressed before shoving open the door. He hoped he looked better than he felt. But if the fuzzy feeling in his head and the numbness of his legs was anything to go by, he was probably flushed, sweaty, and breathing too heavily to pull off a convincing lie.

            “Good evening, officer,” he managed, his voice almost steady as he smiled up into the flashlight beam. “We were just having a little car trouble but we should be good to go now.”

            “Seemed to be moving fine to me,” the officer said. She shifted the beam so Dean could see her sharp features and curly red hair. He felt his cheeks go red as she peeked into the car. “You two know your car doesn’t count as inside? You can be charged for public indecency for having sex out here?”

            “We’re sorry, officer,” Cas said.

            At the same time, Dean said, “We weren’t having sex.”

            The officer gave him a pained look. “Get out of here,” she said. “Find a hotel room.” She slammed the door.

            Dean let out a long, shaky breath. The panicked thought of having to call Sam to get them from jail after being brought in for _public indecency_ had almost made him pass out.

            Cas brushed a hand across Dean’s cheek and kissed his temple. Dean leaned into the touch, let Cas pull him closer in the darkness of the back seat. He felt his heartbeat slow to normal, his breathing steady out. Cas turned his chin and kissed him on the lips with genuine care. Dean kissed him back, lingering on each pull of his lips, hoping they never had to leave but knowing they had to move before the cop came back.

            “Dean,” Cas whispered, his lips warm against Dean’s as he spoke. “What does this mean?”

            “I hope it means we’re together now,” he whispered, feeling brave, feeling too sore not to be brave. “I hope it means you never leave again.”

            Cas pressed their lips together hard. “I never want to leave again. I never want to leave you.”

            Dean pressed his hand to the back of Cas’ neck and pulled him closer. He buried his face in Cas’ shoulder and hugged him tight, felt the weight of him against him in a moment of absolute warmth and peace. He let all his worries and shakiness float away as Cas hugged him back, the tight weight of him all Dean needed in his life.

            “We should move,” Cas mumbled. “Before the cop comes back.”

            “Yeah,” Dean breathed. “In a second.”


End file.
